


That Muddy Fool I Love

by psychoffic



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Arguing, Bad Decisions, Curses, Dominant John, Fluff and Smut, Forgiveness, I Blame Tumblr, Implied Sexual Content, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sweet, muddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoffic/pseuds/psychoffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had went on a case. A simple one. Then why does he come back looking like a fried churro all caked in mud? John is angry, Sherlock is drunk. Fluff ensues and then smut tags along. Its all one big train wreck.</p><p>A Tumblr prompt request! And yes I am accepting requests right now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Muddy Fool I Love

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fully belonging ad requested by this lovely person: http://sherlock-and-john-getting-it-on.tumblr.com/
> 
> Enjoy!!

 

John sat in his favorite cushioned chair, holding a book on his lap and flipping occasionally. His bright eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses flicked to the door once in a while and his left hand tapped nervously on his knee. To be frank he was paying more attention to the door than the book itself.

Per see Sherlock, being the idiot he is, accepted a case in the rural parts of France to help with a case John had nicknamed The Disappearing House. In overall the house the victim lived in was slowly being taken down. Literally. Every morning the victim woke up either a part of the roof was missing or the knives in his kitchen or something else. Of course the farmer was smart enough to install cameras using his savings and here is the catch that caused Sherlock to agree. No one was seen on tape, yet the house kept being de-constructed. It was a mystery even to John.

 

They had both agreed, John and Sherlock, that Sherlock would be there for one week maximum and fly home on Sunday at 5 PM so he would be home at 6 PM.

It was 1 AM.

Biting his lip John carefully placed his book on the chairs arm and stood up, stretching up to loosen his wound up body.

“Oh Jesus Sherlock where are you.”

 

As if on cue there were two sharp knocks on the door and John only had time to turn his head before Sherlock Holmes himself burst into the room.

John could say he was surprised but after the harpooning of the pig, not much was surprising. Instead of blood Sherlock was covered in mud, dried mud from head to toe. His light blue eyes were like a beacon compared to the rest of him and they were shining with utter madness.  
  


 

“John...” Sherlock muttered as he wandered into the room, not even looking at who he was addressing and instead looking around in random directions, “ It was an interesting case indeed. It was two teens who have been replacing the cameras memory and taking the stolen parts to... to build a tree house.”

John wasn’t paying much attention as he worriedly flitted around Sherlock to prevent him from getting too much mud on the furniture. But oh the floor was definitely ruined.

 

“I had to chase them down and they had apparently dug trenches around their house to prevent animals and people from destroying it. I fell in.”

“Sherlock I can see that... NO! GET UP OFF THE CHAIR!” John yelled as he rushed over to the taller male and grabbing him yanked him to his feet. Getting dirt all over himself too.

“I turned them over to the-”

 

“Jesus Christ Sherlock! Shut up, we need to get you cleaned up now.” John growled out and with a huff began to steer Sherlock in the direction of the bathroom.

The latter began to struggle and stumble suspiciously.

 

“No John let me fini-”

“You will finish later.”

 

Both letting out a grunt they squeezed through the bathroom door John opened and stumbled into the small room.

 

 

Spinning Sherlock around John quickly removed his coat and his dress shirt. The other only starred broodily and seemed to be somewhere else in his mind now.

With a roll of his eyes John finished stripping Sherlock naked and turned around to open the faucets. Letting the bathtub fill up with warm water.

The bathroom had already became a mess. There were mud tracks and hand prints on the walls. The small carpet was scrunched and stamped with footprints, while small pieces of dirt rolled around into the small crevices of the tiles.

John had to look away and instead tested the water, deeming it good he turned around to see Sherlock picking at his nails with a smile on his face and swaying from side to side. Something was off.

 

“Sherlock...”

Looking up the curly male smiled, “Yes John.”

“Have you been... drinking???” John asked quietly, a murderous tone in his voice.

“Oh yeah, I stopped by at a pub to get a drink, or two, or three oh maybe more...” Sherlock answered.

For a second there was complete silence. The water was rumbling as it filled the bath up fully and only Johns harsh breaths echoed.

“What.”

Flailing his hand in disinterest Sherlock looked questioningly at John. “It was just a couple drinks, whats wrong with that?”

 

Lunging forward John grabbed Sherlock by the ear and dragged him over to the bath. He then pushed him away and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

“You know whats wrong with that? Oh let me tell you. First off you said you would be here at 6 PM. It is currently 1 AM in the fucking morning. Second you come in here all mud covered, track mud all over the flat and act as if nothing is wrong. Third you have the audacity to act as if everything is OK and I will be the little house maid. Now listen up here boy. DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS? I AM TELLING YOU TO GET YOUR ASS IN THE BATH. FUCKING WASH UP. TAKE A FUCKING BATH. I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE TODAY AGAIN!”

 

Trembling with bottled and angry emotions John stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Leaving a confused Sherlock in his wake.

“That jerk.” John muttered and he walked into the living room to sit down only to encounter a mess. A complete, and utter mess. With a resigned sigh John stumbled into the kitchen; taking out a mop and a broom. Guess it is cleaning time.

 

After an hour of relentless scrubbing, bruised knees and aching back John finally got to sit back down in his chair and it was such a relief.

With eyes closed John leaned back his head and peacefully sat, until he heard the bathroom door squeak and the echo of padding feet on the floor.

Eyes cracked open slightly he watched as Sherlock, dressed in pajama bottoms and a t shirt stood at the entrance to the living room. His head was down and his curls all over the place; he had his hands laced in front of him and his feet nervously shifting.

“John... I am sorry.”

 

Smacking his lips John sat up and shook his head.

“I did not hear you Sherlock, speak up.”

“I said, I am sorry John. I was wrong” Sherlock said, this time his voice was more loud, more sober and his bright eyes locked with Johns ocean blue.

“You were a very naughty thing, and all this mud. I now have an aching back and bruised knees. God knows I also have to clean the bathroom.”

In case it was confusing to why Sherlock couldn’t clean, John would only trust himself. Most of the time Sherlock missed a couple spots or cleaned it the wrong way, or used the wrong supply or simply walked away. He never ever finishs the chores.

 

Head lowered Sherlock carefully padded over to John and sat on his lap, so he was straddling him. The whole time watching for any signs of refusal.

“John... I am sorry, it won;t happen again.”

Amazed at Sherlock’s bold move John’s large hands immediately went to the others hips and he bit his lip. This position was quiet likable. But no, no he had to focus on the problem.

 

“You had me worried sick Sherlock, how would you feel if I disappeared for a week and then when it was time to come back, I didn’t?”

Snuggling his face into the crook of Johns neck and hands wandering to wrap around the others waist, Sherlock whispered, “I would be sad and angry and worried.”

“There. Now you see, why I am upset.” John pointed out.

Sherlock bit his lip and placed a soft kiss on Johns neck, then slowly trailed up to his lips.

“Please forgive me.”

And ever so softly Sherlock pressed his lips to Johns, a kiss of regret and asking for forgiveness.

John couldn’t be angry forever. He loved the fool after all.

 

Tightening his grip on Sherlock’s hips John pushed up and deepened the kiss, biting at his lips until Sherlock opened his mouth, promptly letting John explore and dominate.

It was slow and sweet and both sighed.

 

As their kisses grew more rough Sherlock began to grind his hips down into Johns, the friction quite delicious to both.

Letting out a growl John helped him move his hips with his hands and moved away from Sherlock’s lips to begin to bite at his neck and suckle at the soft skin. Hard enough to leave a hickey that would show for a week.

Letting out a moan Sherlock quickened his pace and with his pale hands brought Johns head away from his neck so he could kiss his lips. Melding together like made of one they both moaned and John removed his hands from Sherlock’s hips to tread them through his soft curly hair. He ran his hands through it, amazed at its softness and tugged occasionally. Bringing out a moan from Sherlock and John swallowed it up greedily.

 

Ignoring the heat in his stomach and the pleasure coursing through him John pulled away from the kiss to ask breathlessly, “Wait... Sherlock with all that mud how did they let you on the plane?”

Sherlock let out a whine at the loss of contact and frowned as he quickly explained, “Well I knew that and I couldn’t wait for the next day to get cleaned and all so I hacked Mycroft’s phone and had a private jet come over to pick me up.”

 

 

Smirking he finished with, “Lets just say that Mycroft won’t be too happy to see his favorite plane all dirty and messy. I was especially fidgety on the ride home.”

Letting out a laugh John smiled and shook his head. Oh of course Sherlock would.

Jutting out his bottom lip Sherlock looked at John and with puppy eyes asked, “Can we continue now?”

 

Licking his lips, John let lust fill he eyes. He pulled Sherlock to him and smashed their lips together, just a second before whispering, “Yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want a one-shot of your own? All free and lovely here! I am accepting Johnlock, Drarry, Thorki, Sebaciel and Destiel prompts! Don't be shy and request a story dedicated to you just like this one!
> 
> KUDOS and COMMENTS are always a lovely act of kindness guys! CLickety CLick!
> 
> Meh Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/psychoffic


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